Of Sore Throats and Stereotypes
by Plumcot
Summary: It's time again for the world conference; solving all of today's problems by talking excessively! And it seems like America has that last part down pat, much to the annoyance of his brother Canada. But what happens when America suddenly gets laryngitis, and has to walk a mile in his brother's shoes? Not what you might think... total crack, rated T for language.


**Author's note: Hey, guys! Sooo I'm doing something a little different this time... this is a fic written in tribute to the amazing Ashynarr, who not only writes amazing fics, (check 'em out! u/1299989/Ashynarr ) but was awesome enough to let me use one of their ideas! ****So here we have my first new fic in a while. Please remember to review, but more importantly, I hope you enjoy it!**

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><p>"Arthur." Silence. Canada tried again, this time louder. "Arthur!" Still no response. Canada huffed in frustration, before reaching over and slapping his former caretaker lightly on the head. England jolted, turning immediately to see Canada there, glaring at him. He really wasn't trying to glare, but he couldn't help it; he was in that kind of mood.<p>

"Oh, er, Matthew! I'm sorry, I didn't hear you!"

Canada grumbled irritably to himself. It wasn't that he was quiet, not at all. Sure he wasn't as loud as some nations he knew, *cough* Prussia *cough* but it wasn't like he just went around whispering. The problem was, who could be heard over a loud, enthusiastic American? Which was exactly what he was dealing with tonight.

"But anyway, I think that's the best way to go about our objective here, which is totally to bring democracy to the world! Who's with me?" It wasn't even his turn to talk. It was supposed to be China up there, giving a presentation about the world economy, but of course as soon as America opened his mouth, he couldn't seem to shut it again.

"You idiot!" England started, apparently forgetting all about Canada in his rush to put down the American's idea. "You're not even a democracy yourself!***** Is that hypocrisy I smell?"

America actually paused in his speech for a moment, before saying; "Wait, dude, I'm not?"

Everyone in the room facepalmed.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe you, Al!" Canada grumbled as they drove down the highway. Being as the meeting was being held in America this time, they had both agreed it would be far more practical if Canada bypassed the hotel and simply stayed at America's house in New York. "Yet again, you managed to let your big fat ego get the best of you! And China had a really nice presentation lined up, too!" It was true; there were even pictures.<p>

"Oh, come on, dude! I totally let him talk!"

"Yeah you did, half an hour after he was supposed to start!"

"Hey, it's not my fault! There's so much awesome in here, once it starts flowing it's impossible to stop!" Feeling something burning a hole in the side of his head, America hazarded a glance away from the road to see his brother glaring daggers at him. Oh boy… if he had Canada this angry, he knew he'd screwed up. "Fine, fine, I get it…" He said, resigned. "It's just… you know me, right? Self-control; not really my thing."

Canada sighed. "Just don't do it again, okay? It gets a little tedious doing damage control for you with the others after every meeting. I'm not your PR officer." There was a brief pause, before Canada asked, "Did you really think you were a democracy?"

"Well what the hell am I, then!?"

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><p>They got to America's house at around nine PM, the meeting having taken up most of the day.<p>

"Ugh… I am _so _exhausted… I think I'll just go to bed…" Canada said wearily.

"Yeah, cool bro! I'll just stay up a little while longer, kay?"

Canada nodded, going to find the guest room. (Up the stairs, second door to the right; he stayed here so often he could find it in his sleep.) America, however, headed toward the kitchen. Figures, Canada thought; probably grilling himself up a hamburger as a bedtime snack.

He put his suitcase on the bed, unpacking the clothes and various toiletries and putting them in the dresser America kept empty for him. By the time he was done he was more than ready for a good night's sleep, but something stopped him. He opened the door into the hallway, curiously sticking his head out and sniffing. No hamburger smell… so what was Al doing in the kitchen, then? He walked downstairs and into the kitchen. As soon as America saw him, however, he panicked and stood directly in front of whatever he had on the counter.

"Al?" Canada asked. "What are you making?"

"Uh… nothing!" America said, smiling.

Canada raised one eyebrow, unconvinced. "I can see the steam rising from behind you, Alfred."

"Oh, that?" America waved one hand dismissively. "That's just… um... the steam from the hot cocoa I was making!"

"I thought you said you weren't making anything?"

"Oh, well I- hey!"

Quick as a snake, Canada ran up to his brother and peeked behind his back. He had to stop himself from laughing when he saw what his brother was so worried about. "Tea?" He asked, gesturing to the mug of steaming tea with the tea bag still in, an offense England would yell his ear off for if he knew of it. "That's the big secret? Tea?"

"Yeah…" America said, lifting the mug indignantly.

"What, did you think I'd make fun of you? You were raised by England himself, Al; you're allowed to be a little British."

America chuckled. "Yeah, I guess it was silly… it's just-" He took a small sip before continuing. "My throat's been sore all day, and Artie always taught me that a little tea with honey was the best thing for it."

Canada backed away dramatically. "If you get me sick, I _swear-"_

"Oh, come on!" America protested. "One little sore throat and suddenly I'm ground zero for the bubonic plague?"

"Might as well be." Canada said, fighting to keep his face straight as he retreated to the guest room. "Who knows, it might be some weird, lethal new American virus."

America grinned. "Hero-itis?"

"Loudmouth-pox?" Canada countered. They both laughed before saying goodnight, and Canada finally fell into his bed, America following suite as soon as his tea was finished.

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><p>The next morning, America woke up and his throat was still sore. <em>"Ah, bollocks." <em>He thought to himself as he got out of bed. _"I-I mean dammit! Dammit, I've been watching too many of Artie's shows…" _He stretched one arm then the other as he walked out of the room and down the stairs, hoping to find Canada so he could bug him to make pancakes. Imagine his surprise when he was nowhere to be found. _"Huh, that's weird, he's usually the first one up…" _He thought, frowning thoughtfully. All at once, an idea began to form. He grinned evilly, immediately turning and sneaking up the stairs to the guest room.

He opened the door as quietly as he could, tip-toeing over to where the Canadian was sleeping. He snickered when he saw he'd drooled a little on the bed. Wake-up call in three… two…

"WAKE UP MA-" America stopped midsentence, confused. What had come out of his mouth was… definitely not the huge, ear-splitting bellow he'd imagined. Instead, it was a hoarse crackle, barely whisper-volume. He blinked confusedly. Okay, maybe there was just some shit in his throat from sleeping with his mouth open. He cleared his throat, and a sear of pain shot through the back of his mouth. That's when he realized…

"Shit Mattie wake up my heroic voice isn't working!" He whisper-shouted, resorting to shaking Canada violently by the shoulders to get him to wake up.

"What!?" Canada shouted, wide awake. "What is so important!?"

"M-my voice! It's…" America trailed off. Not voluntarily, though; midsentence talking had simply gotten so painful that it didn't feel like an option anymore. He sniffled pathetically. Talking was one of his favorite past times! He loved to talk, about anything, about nothing… and not being _able_ to talk was already seriously stressing him out.

Canada had been watching, confused, since America had first tried to explain himself. And, as his brother began to give him the most pathetic look he'd seen on the southern nation in a while, the pieces finally clicked together. "Al… do you have laryngitis?" From America's wild gesturing and nodding, he guessed the answer was yes. Canada sighed, hauling himself up out of the bed. "Come on, let's make you some more tea…" He said, reluctant to deal with a panicking America this early in the morning. He trudged into the kitchen and put the kettle on, America following close behind him. There was complete silence in the time between the American's earlier outburst and the completion of the tea, which was… nice. Canada hadn't thought such a thing could be possible with America around, but it looked like miracles really did happen.

"Here." He said, handing the honey-sweetened tea to his brother. He felt a little awkward just watching him as he drank, but… it wasn't as if he had much else to do. And without Alfred's chatter to fill the air, there wasn't anything else to focus on. "So, um… this is gonna be tough to deal with at the meeting, huh?"

America stopped mid-sip, took the mug from his lips and slapped the heel of his palm to his forehead. Right; looked like he'd pretty much forgotten about the meeting. He mouthed something along the lines of _"What am I gonna do?"_

"Wait here a second." Canada left the kitchen to go rummaging around in his brother's desk, and came back with a pencil and a stack of sticky notes.

America frowned at the items he was being handed, but immediately began to scribble something, so Canada figured it must have been a hit.

Until he saw what it said. _"Sticky notes? Really?" _America had written on a hot pink note.

Canada rolled his eyes. "It's all I could find! Your house happens to be the exact opposite of organized."

America grumbled, scribbling furiously on the pads, and pulled the top one off to reveal a drawing of an angry face sticking its tongue out.

Canada rolled his eyes again. "Real mature, Al." He said, turning to leave the kitchen and go back up the stairs. "I'm going to go get dressed. You should too, we're leaving in…" He looked up at the clock on the wall. "A little less than two hours."

America grudgingly stood up, finished off his tea, and followed Canada up the stairs.

Only when Canada was changing out of his pajamas did he notice the angry-faced little sticky note on the back of his shirt.

* * *

><p>"Dude!" No response. America huffed indignantly, then tried again. "Mattie, dude!" Still no answer. As a last resort, America ran up to his brother and threw his arms around him from behind, whisper-shouting in his ear; "Dude! I can talk again!"<p>

Canada staggered from the sudden weight, pushing his brother off him as he continued the walk into the UN building. "Barely." He commented, resisting the urge to snicker as America began to pout. "And you shouldn't be talking, anyway. It's bad for your voice."

"But Mattiiiieeee!" America whined, his voice just barely reaching hearing range as they walked through the sliding doors into the building. "I can't just not talk for the entire meeting! That's, like, totally unheroic!"

"You could use the-"

"If you think I'm spending the entire meeting scribbling on post-it notes, you've got another thing coming."

"You didn't seem to have a problem with it in the car." Canada reminded him. After the initial one he'd stuck to his shirt, America had apparently decided it was amusing to draw random things on the notes and stick them to his brother. So far, Canada had found a hamburger, Captain America's shield, a bunny, and a robot.

Actually, no… he frowned as he picked another one from his shoulder, and looked at the arc reactor drawn in the middle. Even weirder, he had to admit his brother was actually a decent artist…

Once inside the lobby, Canada caught sight of the elevator on the other side of the room. It was open, and England was standing inside of it. "Arthur!" Canada shouted, grabbing his brother's arm and racing them to the elevator. "Hold the door!"

England looked up, startled, then quickly pressed the 'hold doors' button on the elevator. The brothers made it, breathing heavily from their impromptu sprint. "Good morning, then." England said politely.

"Yeah, g'mornin'." America replied, his voice still barely audible.

England blinked confusedly, looking between the twins before finally seeming to settle on America. "Yes, well… I'm terribly sorry, Matthew, but it does seem you're beginning to pick up some of your brother's… less desirable speech patterns."

"What?" Both brothers said in unison.

"Oh, you know what I'm talking about." England raised one eyebrow judgmentally as he turned to Canada. "You can't even be bothered to pronounce full words anymore! It's always "g'mornin'' this and 'y'all' that. Honestly, when I think of what you've done to my perfectly good language…" He trailed off when the elevator dinged, and he stepped out into the hallway, walking briskly to the meeting room, and leaving both twins to wonder what the hell had just happened.

"Mattie?"

"Al?" They both turned to each other.

"Did he just mistake me for you?" America asked. Well… stranger things had happened, right?

Both nations resolved to shrug off the occurrence, and headed toward the meeting room themselves. But the more nations began to file into the meeting room, the more they began to see it hadn't just been a fluke.

It seemed like they all had an idea of which twin was which when they first came in the room. After all, as they were eager to point out, they didn't look _exactly _alike. But it was as soon as America spoke that the confusion would begin. And then the really weird stuff started happening…

"Um, Cuba?" America asked, one eyebrow raised high to the sky. "Why are you sitting next to me?"

Cuba blinked, surprised. "Why wouldn't I? We're friends, aren't we?"

"Friends!?" America exclaimed, as loudly as he could with his throat rebelling against him. "But I thought you hated me?"

"Of course not, Mattie! Where would-" Something seemed to hit him mid-sentence. "Ohh, is this because of that one time I punched you in the face? I thought that was water under the bridge! I told you, I thought you were your brother!"

In that moment, America could have done one of two things; he could have said something along the lines of "_I _am_ that brother _bitch," and risked getting punched in the face… again…

Or, he could have saved his glorious heroic face from unnecessary damage while pulling off a totally epic prank in the meantime. Being America, he chose the latter. "Yeah, I suppose you're right, eh." He said, smiling. "I guess I just worry a lot because I'm so sensitive about things like that."

Cuba grinned and clapped him on the back. "Don't, man! Everyone here likes you! More than they like your brother, at any rate." And if America's smile got a little more forced, well, Cuba figured he must have just thumped his back a little too hard.

Meanwhile, across the room, Canada watched as his brother blatantly impersonated him. His eyebrows raised in half-indignation, half-disbelief as America made a huge deal of sinking shyly into his chair, putting 'eh' at the end of every sentence and apologizing for the most unnecessary things. The worst part was, Cuba actually seemed to believe him. He wasn't _that _much of a stereotype, was he?

"Alfred? Alfred!" Canada snapped out of his train of thought when he realized England was addressing him, and turned to face the island nation. "I swear, Alfred," England huffed. "Do you have nothing better to do than daydream?"

Canada opened his mouth to respond, but closed it just as soon. He looked over at his brother, still unabashedly promoting stereotypes and pulling the wool over the eyes of his best friend. (Friends, as it happened; it looked like Prussia had joined in on the conversation.) And he made a decision.

"Aww, come on, Artie!" He said, flashing a huge grin at England. He had to practically yell to get his voice up to America's usual volume, but it was so, so worth it. "You interrupted my epic daydream! I was imagining fighting crime with Captain America!" Out of the corner of his eye, he watched with a smug satisfaction as America briefly broke character to gape at the northern nation.

"Typical." England scoffed. "Just sit down, git; it's high time we got this meeting started."

"Sure thing, dude!" Canada shouted again, plopping down into a chair with all the grace of an overweight walrus and propping both feet up on the table.

Looking across the table, he gave in to the urge to smirk as he caught his brother's eye. There was a challenge in those eyes; a look he only saw when they were on the verge of a water-gun fight, or an inevitable prank war.

It was _on_.

* * *

><p>After the initial idea, it was surprisingly easy for Canada to get into the groove of impersonating his brother. You can't share a border with a guy without learning a thing or two about them, and the northern nation had plenty of material to go on. And even if he didn't have any ideas, he could always just resort to his brother's favorite topic;<p>

"Dudes! Superheroes, seriously!" Canada said, making sure to narrowly avoid whacking England in the face with his enthusiastic gesturing. "We need to get started on this shit! What better way to protect the world from evil, am I right?"

"Right." Germany said. "And just what evil are we protecting the world from?"

Canada didn't even have to think. "Uh, hostile alien races, terrorists, vegetarians…" He ticked off each item on his fingers as he went.

"Moving on from that…" Germany said pointedly. "I believe today's topic was global warming?"

"Once again, dude; superheroes."

Meanwhile, across the table, America was beginning to twitch. This… this was _so_ not what he acted like. And superheroes weren't his answer to _every _problem! He just blurted shit like that out when he needed to stall for a real answer, and Canada knew that!

Very well, then; two could play at that game. "M-maybe we could try…" He said, making damn sure to stutter on the first word. Unfortunately, he went unheard. "Guys?" Dammit, this wouldn't work if no one was listening!

Luckily for him, it seemed he had a trick up his sleeve even he didn't know about. "Guys!" Cuba shouted, startling everyone in the room. "Listen up, Mattie has something to say!" Everyone turned to America, and Cuba gave him a friendly wink before letting him talk.

"I was just th-thinking, eh…" He started, resisting the urge to smirk when he saw Canada twitch at the slight stutter. "Maybe we could try just asking everyone really politely not to pollute anymore?"

There was a brief pause. "Well, I suppose we haven't tried it before…" England said dubiously, hesitant to bash the nation's idea.

"HA!" Everyone startled when they heard Canada's loud shout. "Like that's gonna work! Everyone knows the best way to solve a problem is to punch it in the face!"

America scowled. "That's not true, eh!" He said, in as loud a voice as he could muster with his throat still killing him. "The only real way to solve a problem is to be nice to it until it goes away!"

"Oh, so what're you gonna do then, offer global warming maple syrup and hope it suddenly decides to go bother Mars?" Canada shouted, leaning forward on the table.

"It's better than your plan! You can't just nuke everything that's giving you problems!"

"Hoser!"

"_Dick!" _

As soon as that last insult was spoken, everyone else had to duck and cover fast, because the north American brothers flew at each other, landing on the floor in a tangle of pinching and hair-pulling.

"I am _not _some loud-mouthed trigger happy idiot, you asshole!"

"And I'm not some wimpy pacifist who can't bear to be rude to a _fucking concept!"_

"Oh yeah!? Well it sure seems like-" America never got to finish his sentence, because all of a sudden his throat was on fire. He fell off of his brother, coughing and hacking violently.

"Oh shit Alfred!" Canada said, panicking. He flew over to his brother, thumping him helpfully on the back as the American coughed his lungs out. "Are you okay? Please tell me you're okay!"

America, finished with his coughing fit, lifted his head and nodded, silently. They looked each other for a moment. Then threw their arms around each other. "I'm sorry Mattie!" America wailed, as loudly as he could with his voice still shot. "I'm sorry I know you're not just a wimpy idiot!"

"And I know you're not that much of a moronic asshole, Al!"

Both twins drew back, America wiping a couple of tears away with his sleeve. "I think we took this a little far, huh?" He said, smiling.

"Yeah, I think you're- um, Al?"

"Yeah?"

"I think everyone's staring at us…"

They both turned slowly to see the entire room of nations staring wide-eyed at them.

"Um… heh…" America laughed nervously. "Surprise?"

And then the floodgates opened.

"YOU ASSHOLE! YOU MEAN I WAS SITTING NEXT TO YOU AND NOT MATTIE THE ENTIRE TIME!?"

"What the hell!? Do you mean to tell me that wasn't Birdie's ass the awesome me was grabbing!?"

"This is the last time! Mark my words, the LAST TIME! America has disrupted meetings before, but you, Canada? Gott in Himmel, the world must be ending…"

America and Canada stood cautiously as everyone continued to yell at them. "Okay." Canada whispered. "On three, I open the door and we run. Okay?"

"Gotcha."

"One… two…. three!"

The others never had a chance to catch them.

* * *

><p>The next day, both brothers walked into the meeting room, expecting to be scolded for the little trick they'd pulled. Instead, what they each got was a slap on the head.<p>

"Ow!" America protested, his hand flying to his forehead. "That hurt, Artie!" He quieted when he felt the piece of paper England had stuck to his head. "The hell…?"

"Nametags." England explained as America and Canada both caught sight of the stickers on each other's heads. "From now on, you're both required to wear them at _every _meeting."

America smirked. "And what if we decide to switch the nametags up?" Not that he planned to, but he'd take any chance to mess with the Briton.

His smile fell, though, when England smirked right back. "I have signed documents from both of your bosses that say you won't." He said, holding up very official looking papers in each hand.

"Wait, you told our bosses about this!?" Canada squeaked, grabbing one of the papers to make sure it was official. Sure enough, there was his prime minister's signature. "Oh no…" He groaned. "Harper is gonna give me an earful when I get home…"

He looked over to America, who was likewise studying his boss's signature. "Eh, whatevs." The southern nation said. "It's not like Obama hasn't chewed me out before." He handed the document back to England, and he and Canada both went to sit at the table before peeling the stickers off their heads and sticking them on their jackets instead.

Soon, the meeting began. As Germany droned on and the other nations listened intently, America once again found himself getting bored out of his mind. Lazily looking around the room, he found his gaze falling on a cup full of pens in the center of the table. Grinning to himself, he grabbed one of the pens, and leaned over to reach the sticker on his brother's jacket.

"Hey! Al, what are you doing?" Canada whispered, trying not to interrupt Germany's speech. America just grinned wider and gestured for him to read the nametag. Rolling his eyes, the northern nation twisted his jacket around so he could see, and a smile came to his face. Instead of just "Canada", the nametag now said, "Canada, maple-syrup avenger!" He snickered to himself, and grabbed his own pen, leaning over to scribble on his brother's nametag.

When Canada was done, America eagerly lifted up his own sticker to check out what his brother had written. He smiled when he saw the "Captain" written right above his name.

Oh, yes; the papers said they couldn't _switch _nametags… but who was to say they couldn't have a little fun with them?

* * *

><p><strong>*It's true! We're not even a democracy; we're an oligarchy with certain democratical traits! Blows my mind, man... (also, is democratical a word? Spellcheck says it isn't, but if that's right I wanna make it a word.)<strong>


End file.
